Following Orders
by Czigany
Summary: A job for Kasumi goes a little wrong and quite a bit right. Really old kmeme fill; F!Shep/Zaeed, confined space. One-shot, complete.


**Disclaimer:** _Mass Effect_ is the property of Bioware, Microsoft Game Studios, and Electronic Arts. I am none of these, and as such make no money from this venture.

* * *

Shepard didn't want to think about how they'd gotten here, but there were only so many other ways to distract herself from the heat of the body at her back and the ghost of breath on her bare shoulder.

It had been another of Kasumi's little jobs - the kind that required a new, slinky dress and either a badass bodyguard or some gorgeous eyecandy on her arm. After a quick review of the crew, Zaeed had been drafted to be her protection during their night-long distraction. Surprisingly, he hadn't minded having to accompany her to a high society party and had even taken the little thief's wardrobe suggestions with good grace. And it had been going so well...

"How long 'til we miss check-in?" His voice was low and rough, and she could practically feel the vibrations of it where they touched. She shivered, not cold at all.

"A few hours, at least." She tilted her head forward to rest against the wall, eyes closed against the dim emergency lighting in their little space. "Kasumi signaled me shortly before she entered the sub-basement but that couldn't have been more than a half hour ago. The plan was to make contact again when she came out or abort after two hours. We can miss one check-in but three hours of no contact from either group and the Normandy sends in backup."

The mercenary sighed and she felt the rush of air across the back of her neck raising goosebumps in its wake. He shifted behind her and her head jerked up when hot hands settled on her hips.

"What are you doing, Massani?"

"Rearranging," he grunted, nudging her into facing him.

She kept her eyes focused on his shoulder and willed herself not to blush when he crowded her back into the wall. She could smell gun oil and cigars under the musky scent of whatever cologne Kasumi had pressed on him.

She was so distracted that she squeaked audibly when his hands suddenly closed on her waist again and lifted her easily. Her eyes darted up to his as she found herself seated on a medium-sized crate with the mercenary between her knees. He was smirking at her, one eyebrow raised, and she flushed faintly with embarrassment.

"Something the matter, Shepard?" His grin said he knew what was wrong and she shouldn't fall for his teasing, but-

"It's just getting warm in here," she muttered back.

Before he could comment on her choice of words - and she saw the way his lips curled - she continued, gesturing at the high-collared suit Kasumi had found for him to wear. "Aren't you uncomfortable?"

"Are you saying I should take it off?" His smirk was decidedly wicked.

When she only raised an eyebrow in return, Zaeed shrugged easily. "At least I'm covered," he replied, eying the short, strapless dress and ridiculously high heels she'd been conned into wearing.

Shepard tugged self-consciously at the hem and only succeeded in drawing his mismatched gaze to where the shimmering fabric lay high across her thigh. Reflexively, she tried to close her legs, but in the small space she only managed to grip the mercenary's hips tightly. Zaeed's hands hit the crate on either side of her, his balance thrown by her nervous movements, and he found himself with a lovely view of the Commander's cleavage.

There was beat of silence, then Zaeed let out a low chuckle. Lifting his head, he locked gazes with her again. "If that's what you wanted Shepard, all you had to do was ask."

And before she could respond, he'd kissed her fiercely. Her hands flew to his chest as if to push him off but once there, they slid up to clutch his shoulders and draw him in. One of Zaeed's hot hands gripped her thigh just below her dress, spreading her legs so he could step in closer. His other stroked down her spine, tugging her right to the edge of the crate.

Shepard broke the kiss to gasp for air and his mouth was immediately at her throat. She moaned as he nipped at the sensitive skin there and the hand on her thigh slipped under the hem of her dress to stroke the soft skin at her hip.

She fisted a hand in his hair and dragged his mouth back to hers. Their tongues tangled heatedly while nimble fingers made short work of his jacket fastenings. When he reluctantly pulled his hands from her to shed both the jacket and his undershirt, she traced the edges of his tattoos where they spread across his chest.

As soon as he'd shaken the heavy fabric free, Zaeed's hands were on her again. She countered his advance by leaning up and nipping the underside of his jaw. He groaned darkly when she dragged lightly glossed lips down the column of his throat and traced his ink with her tongue. Almost simultaneously, they each grasped a zipper and pulled.

Shepard's dress pooled at her waist, inviting calloused fingers to tug at her sensitive nipples. He swallowed her cry of pleasure with his mouth as he palmed her breasts. Pulling back, he nearly growled, "Damn Shepard. Your armour does a good job hiding some nice assets."

Her breathless laugh cut off on a moan as he ducked down to lip at those same assets. "I could say the same for you, Massani," she breathed in his ear, her meaning clear as she slipped a hand in his gaping trousers to grasp his hard cock.

"No underwear?" She questioned lightly, stroking him with a deceptive calm.

"I could say the same for you," he returned and she found her grip unconsciously tightening as hot fingers trailed beneath her hem and pressed against her core.

Zaeed swallowed her keening cry as he pressed his thumb against her clit, slipping two fingers into her hot cunt. "Fuck," he panted at her throat, thrusting those digits deep.

"Fuck," he repeated when her scrabbling fingers finally released the catch on his slacks, freeing his length for exploration by both of the Commander's greedy hands.

"You'd better," she moaned, rocking her hips into his back another curse, he pulled his fingers out, knocking her hands aside to position himself at her entrance. "Last chance," he forced out between clenched teeth.

Rocking her hips again, Shepard pressed the head of his cock against her slick folds. Nipping at his earlobe, she only repeated, "You'd better, or I'll make it an order."

No sooner had the last syllable left her lips than the mercenary had thrust home. Grunting at the welcome feeling of hot, gripping flesh surrounding him, Zaeed set a brutal pace. The catch and draw of his hips was soon matched by hers.

Shepard cried out, calling him god and begging for more. He complied, hooking her leg over his arm to change the angle of his thrusts. She drew her nails up his back and he hissed in approval, covered her sounds with his own as he pounded into her without remorse. And when she called him god again, this time keening his name as she clenched impossibly tight around him, Zaeed replied in kind as he filled her with his seed.

"Got my next tattoo all planned out," he murmured casually, taking a drag from his cigar and exhaling blue smoke across the railing and out over the garden below.

She sipped her champagne idly, studying his scarred profile as the party continued on behind them. "Oh?"

"Eight parallel lines, four on either side of my spine. That way when someone asks if I knew the great Commander Shepard, I can show them just how well we were... acquainted."

She laughed, drawing the curious gazes of gossiping clusters for a moment before they turned away again. "My last offer still stands, you know."

She met his questioning glance with an impish quirk of her mouth. "I'll make it an order. Recurring," she added as his eyes darkened in lust.

Spotting a disguised Kasumi making her way towards them, she leaned in to whisper her parting shot across his ear. "Now isn't that a more pleasant retirement plan than 'suicide by Omega?'"

Zaeed's head swung around so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash, but all he saw was the flick of a short red hem. Grinning, he stubbed out his cigar and prepared to follow orders.


End file.
